


To signify I died of love

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1940s, F/M, M/M, Steve Rogers Angst, Steve Rogers Feels, Stucky - Freeform, because it's important and vital to see through the eyes of others, colonel phillips POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:23:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4659543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colonel Phillips' POV starting at Steve's transformation up to the moment he crashes the jet into frigid ice caps. He may be stern and older but he knows love when he sees it. </p><p>{Oh! dig my grave both wide and deep, wide and deep<br/>Put tombstones at my head and feet, head and feet<br/>And on my breast carve a turtle dove<br/>To signify I died of love}</p>
            </blockquote>





	To signify I died of love

Colonel Phillips had saw many soldiers in his day and Steve Rogers was no exception. His push ups were painful to watch as was his army crawl and everything he attempted and yet he persevered. He couldn't weigh more than 110 pounds soaking wet but he had the drive of a much stronger man. He'd heard all about how Rogers had loosened the bolts on the flag pole and captured the flag so he could catch a ride with Agent Carter - that boy had a rebellious streak a mile wide. It could be the making of him or the death - depending on how he applied it. He was a loose canon, a flight risk and all too willing to lose his own life.

And yet Dr. Erskine placed his faith in him so he was the first to try out Howard Stark's machine and the doctors serum. The colonel felt that strapping a skin and bones asthmatic to a confined space was a terrible idea and he might not survive but this wasn't his call to make.

The next time he'd heard Steve Rogers name was in passing - he'd survived the procedure and proceeded to run out of the facility as quickly as he could to catch the Hydra agent who killed the doctor. He was brave - he'd give him that much.

They'd examined the submarine that the now deceased agent had been using and even Stark couldn't figure it out.

"As of today the SSR is being retasked. We are taking the fight to Hydra. Pack your bags Agent Carter. You too Stark. We're flying to London tonight," he ordered. One way or another they would squash Hydra like a bug.

"Sir? If you're going after Schmidt, I want in."  Rogers stood tall and said every word with confidence that he'd actually listen and allow him to follow.

"You're an experiment. You're going to Alamogordo." There was no way he was allowing this kid - who'd been nothing more than a beanpole less than a week ago - to take on Hydra. He wouldn't survive.

"The serum worked," Rogers retorted. He was correct, of course, but Rogers had barely any training and no experience on the battlefield at all.

"I asked for an army and all I got was you. You are not enough,"  he spat out. His eyes softened around the edges at the harsh words (most likely it wasn't the first time he'd heard them) but sometimes you had to be cruel to save someones life. He'd include him - just not in the way he'd prefer.

"Son, do you want to serve your country on the most important battlefield of the war?"

"Sir, that's all I want," Rogers eyes lit up at the question. Surely he had a damn good reason to fight - likely he was following after a loved one. Rogers wasn't the first to have did that. Still he didn't want Rogers blood on his hands - he was nothing more than a young kid and had his whole life ahead of him. He'd made some calls and Rogers became the poster boy for war bonds and USO shows - tights and dancing girls included. They had a war to win and everyone had to do their part.

His face was plastered on every television set and in the newspapers:

 _Each one you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy's gun._  
_Who will campaign door-to-door for America?_  
_Carry the flag shore to shore for America?_  
_From Hoboken to Spokane_  
_The star-spangled man with a plan!_

If he wanted to help the loved one that he'd so eagerly followed then this was the best way - sell the bonds and provide bullets so his best guy would make it home in one piece.

_We can't do that without bullets and bandages, tanks and tents.  
That's where you come in. Every bond you buy will help protect someone you love._

That was what it all came down to - protecting America, protecting the people you love. Steve Rogers hadn't mentioned a soul but there must be _someone._ No one is that eager to fight and to die without a good reason to. Either that or he was the most selfless man he'd ever met - perhaps both.

 

**November 3rd, 1943**

It was a rainy day five miles from the front when Rogers' audience had turned on him. Until now he'd entertained families with sticky faced children and smitten girls - these were beaten down soldiers who had watched fellow comrades die right in front of them. They'd expected to see the first girls they'd saw in months - a reminder of home.

"Okay. I need a volunteer," he called from the stage.

"I already volunteered! How do you think I got here?," a soldier yelled.

The colonel knew he should intervene but he figured he'd let him see the effects of war for himself - weary dirt smeared faces, bony ribs and exhaustion. It wasn't black and white and rush in and save the day like Rogers staged accounts showed. This was life and death hanging in the balance.

"Bring back the girls!," another soldier demanded.

"I think they only know the one song but I'll see what I can do," Rogers looked every bit the young boy that the Colonel saw him as - he was near tears already.

"You do that sweetheart," a soldier chastised from the audience.

"Nice boots, Tinker Bell!"  At that Rogers screwed up his face and tried once more, "Come on, guys we're all on the same team here."  Easy for him to say - he was the only man in the area who actually _wanted_ to be there.

With that the colonel left - he had more pertinent issues at hand. He made his way to a large green tent and signed death forms until his fingers cramped. Each one had the same generic condolences as if the words were any comfort - each one with a brand new name on the blank space. Soldiers were not disposable - these were his men dying on the front and they were fighting a losing battle.

Two hours later Steve Rogers ran into the tent, splashing mud puddles and not even bothering to shelter himself from the rain, with Agent Carter on his heels. If he didn't know better he'd assume she had a crush.

"Colonel Phillips," he began.

"Well, if it isn't the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. What's your plan today?," The colonel was feeling especially bitter - this walking science experiment was eager to die while better men laid down their lives behind enemy lines when they actually wanted to live.

"I need the casualty list from Azzano," Rogers commanded.

"You don't get to give me orders, son." Who exactly did he think he was to march in like he owned the place and make demands? 

"I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th," Rogers pleaded - he was on the verge of tears.

So he was correct - there _was_ a special person in his life - one he'd happily followed.

"You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won't enjoy."  One way or another he'd learn how to respect his higher ups regardless of how important the possibly deceased was.

"Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R...," Rogers began.

"I can spell," the colonel replied grumpily. He had two more stacks of forms to fill out and they'd be slow getting to the families as it was - he couldn't afford to waste time.

"I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry." The name had blended with Bards and Bronsworths - endless lists of casualties. He couldn't count how many times he'd uttered the words "I'm sorry" to his men. Nothing he could ever say would bring back their friends.

"What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?"  Rogers questioned - voice growing more desperate by the minute.

"Yes, it's called winning the war."  He couldn't expect a fresh out of the lab kid to understand that you didn't send twenty men to their death just to save one.

"But if you know where they are why not at least..."  Rogers crinkled his brows in frustration - he wasn't backing down.

"They're 30 miles behind the lines through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We'd lose more men than we'd save. But I don't expect you to understand that because you're a chorus girl," the colonel spat. Rogers needed tough love and he was just the one to dish it out.

"I think I understand just fine," he replied with jaw clenched.

"Well, then understand it somewhere else. If I read the posters correctly you got someplace to be in 30 minutes."  The colonels last bit of patience had snapped. Agent Carter stood in the background, eyes darting from Steve to the colonel as if she wanted to add her two cents in as well. He wasn't in the mood.

"Yes, sir. I do." Rogers stood tall and he had to admire him for his gumption, if anything. That didn't mean it wouldn't get another man killed someday when he acted without thinking it through. 

Carter pursed her lips together and glared.

"If you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself," he growled as she left to follow Rogers. 

The colonel continued to recite words he knew by heart to the transcriber - a sorry generic excuse for their loved ones death. He'd be lying if he said it didn't keep him awake at night. He'd be damned if Steve Rogers would be the next condolence letter he signed. 

 

On the stage the chorus girls lined up in bright reds, navy blue and white - the music began as they filed onto the stage. Minutes later the colonel heard "Captain America is a little late - we'll keep you entertained until then." He marched past the stage and into Carters tent - it was empty. Next he stomped into the tent where Rogers kept his clothing alongside the girls' costumes. Everything was cleaned out. 

Hell. What was he up to this time? He was going to get himself killed and Carter alongside him. 

"Anyone seen Rogers? Where's Stark?," he demanded at no one in particular. 

"Haven't saw either of them today sir," a young soldier replied. 

Dear God.

With a groan he walked over to where - only hours ago Stark's plane had been sitting. This wouldn't end well.

Carter returned the same night and he had some choice words for her but they had to wait.

 

Weeks passed with aerial reports coming back with absolutely nothing. They'd lost another man it seemed and not just any man - he was the face of America whether he liked it or not.

"Senator Brandt, I regret to report that Captain Steven G. Rogers went missing behind enemy lines on the third. Aerial reconnaissance has proven unfruitful. As a result I must declare Captain Rogers killed in action. Period," he said aloud as the transcriber typed up the message.

Agent Carter cautiously entered the tent and caught the tail end - _Captain Rogers killed in action._

"The last surveillance flight is back. No sign of activity," she said quietly and passed him pages of mapped territory with mountains and snow.

"Go get a cup of coffee, Corporal," he ordered to the other man. He scurried away with a "Yes sir."

"I can't touch Stark. He's rich and he's the Army's number one weapons contractor. You are neither one." They couldn't afford to lose Howard Stark but Carter could be replaced and disciplined for her behavior. Because of her little crush they'd lost America's mascot.

"With respect, sir, I don't regret my actions. And I don't think Captain Rogers did, either," she countered.

"What makes you think I give a damn about your opinions? I took a chance with you, Agent Carter. And now America's golden boy and a lot of other good men are dead 'cause you had a crush." The war was no place for personal feelings and biased decisions.

"It wasn't that. I had faith," she retorted.

"Well, I hope that's a big comfort to you when they shut this division down," he growled. He'd worked too damn hard to loose everything.

Outside, the air filled with the sounds of cheering men and yelling.

"What the hell's going on out there?"  the colonel demanded as he stormed outside.

To his surprise Rogers had not only returned but had hundreds of men in tow including the one he'd gone in after in the first place. They were all ragged and filthy - Rogers jacket was torn at the seams and he wore one of the chorus girls' helmets on his head but they were present and accounted for. Next to him stood Sgt Barnes who had been missing for longer than two weeks - he'd sent the condolence letter after three days. He had rings under his eyes, one bleeding ear and tattered clothing with tears in his eyes. The last time he'd laid eyes on him he'd been heading deep behind enemy lines with his brigade in an attempt to infiltrate it from the inside. He wore a broken smile and continued to look around at the other men - meeting Rogers eyes momentarily.

"Some of these men need medical attention," Rogers stated as a nurse pressed her way into the crowd.

"I'd like to surrender myself for disciplinary action," he added.

The colonel glanced over at Sgt Barnes - so _this_ was who Rogers had risked his life and military career for - who he'd parachuted into enemy territory for and stormed Hydra bases, who he'd nearly begged to be accepted into the military for. He must be pretty damn special especially given the way he threw Agent Carter a nearly hollow glare and grinned proudly at Rogers with tears in his eyes. He looked at Rogers as if he'd hung the moon - like he was the best thing in his life and maybe he was. He almost looked at him like...a man in love. Why shouldn't he be? Rogers had been perfectly willing to die for him - that was nothing new as comrades died in one anothers places on the battlefield everyday but Rogers was no ordinary man. He had extremely limited military experience and for all he knew he was marching to his death.

He looked back at Rogers and narrowed his eyes - thought about how Carter had said she'd had faith in him and that was why she'd helped. Rogers in turn had had faith in Sgt Barnes - that he'd been strong enough to survive. It was more than faith - a lot more. He gave Rogers a knowing smile and stepped back before throwing a comment over his shoulder:

"Faith huh?"

As he was walking away he saw Agent Carter take his place and scoot in close. Sgt Barnes watched the two of them before hastily looking away at the others - his eyes were filled with sadness as he called out -

"Let's hear it for Captain America!"

Rogers turned to regard him and he shrugged - tears barely kept in check as he turned away. He frowned and pulled in his lips until they were hardly visible. Blame it on the exhaustion of walking 30-40 miles back to base and the trauma dealt his way via Hydra but that wasn't the complete story. He didn't leave Rogers side the entire time as he, Rogers and Agent Carter were surrounded by hooting and grinning men but Rogers only had eyes for her. Either he couldn't see what was right in front of him or he chose to ignore it. Either way, this wouldn't end well.

 

The next day they stood over a large map with Rogers placing markers on Hydra bases.

"The fifth one was here in Poland, right near the Baltic. And the sixth one was about here, 30, 40 miles west of the Maginot Line. I just got a quick look."  Impressive.

"Well, nobody's perfect," Agent Carter purred from her place near the top of the map.

"These are the weapon factories we know about. Sergeant Barnes said that Hydra shipped all the parts to another facility that isn't on this map," Rogers straightened his back and held his chin up high as he had even as a scrawny recruit.

If he felt that Sgt Barnes knew what he was talking about and trusted him then who was he to doubt it? They couldn't risk being wrong but the two of them worked well as a team.

"Agent Carter, coordinate with Ml6. I want every Allied eyeball looking for that main Hydra base," he commanded. They would locate that base no matter what it took.

"What about us?," Rogers questioned. Where did he and Sgt Barnes fit in?

"We are going to set a fire under Johann Schmidt's ass. What do you say, Rogers? It's your map. You think you can wipe Hydra off it?" The colonel had full trust in Rogers and he'd proven himself more than once.

"Yes, sir. I'll need a team."

"We're already putting together the best men," the colonel replied. They'd send in their best men who hadn't been knee deep in enemy territory just yet. They'd faced down the enemy and came out the other side but hadn't been held prisoner or tortured. The men who'd returned with Rogers needed medical attention and time to recover.

"With all due respect, sir, so am l," Rogers replied with confidence before he began to list names - Falsworth, Barnes, Morita, Dugan, Jones and Dernier. Men who'd bravely faced down Hydra only minutes after their escape.

"You sure about that, Rogers?"

"Absolutely, sir."

With a nod Rogers left to collect his team and Agent Carter went in the opposite direction. The colonel left to meet with Stark to see exactly what they were dealing with and what was powering Hydra's weapons.

A few minutes later Stark left to work on a new shield for Rogers and the colonel went to go back over details - they couldn't afford to slip up.  
 

The next day Rogers and his team bundled up and set out for the mountainside.

They returned with solemn faces and a shell shocked Rogers whose face was red and puffy with fresh tears streaming down his cheeks.

"What happened to him?" the colonel demanded as Morita stood with one arm wrapped around Rogers waist to keep him from sliding to the floor.

"He and Sgt Barnes went into Hydra's train and I'm not sure what happened after but Sgt Barnes...he...he was holding onto the side of the train and he fell, sir."

Falsworth bowed his head and Dugan followed. Derneir was doing his best to keep it together - he didn't take loss well. But Rogers? Rogers was pale and silent.

"I'm going to need a report on this," the colonel said gently. Of all people it had to be Barnes that they'd lost. Rogers had clung to his side ever since the rescue and without him he was devastated.

"I'll get it to within the hour, sir," Rogers replied with a nasally voice and stuffed up nose. He refused to meet the colonels eyes - he'd saw that behavior before. Rogers was blaming himself.

"I'm sorry," he offered. It was hardly a comfort but it was something.

Rogers nodded and stammered "T-thank you sir."

"Go get some rest." The colonel looked to Dugan who nodded - he would take care of him. They'd most likely steer him toward a bottle of strong booze to numb the pain.

They trudged away with Morita still supporting Rogers and the others keeping their eyes to the floor.

 

Rogers returned as he said he would and accepted the forms with shaking hands and bloodshot eyes. He described in vivid detail how they'd entered the train from the side, had been separated by a heavy door at first but were quickly reunited. From there they'd gave Hydra all they had - Rogers had gone down and Sgt Barnes had taken up his shield whilst firing. The force of Hydra's weapons pushed against the shield and sent him flying out of the hole where a solid wall had been. Rogers had instructed him to take his hand but the railing had given way and he'd fallen.

The rest was a scribbled tale of how the other men had commandeered the train and retrieved Rogers and he'd informed them of the fatality. From there they all but dragged him back to base because his feet didn't want to work.

When the colonel received the report it was smudged and damp with fallen tears. This was what he'd wanted to avoid for Rogers - the pain of loss. He had no doubt that he'd take a bullet for any one of his men but Sgt Barnes wasn't ordinary. Given what the gossip was around the base he'd known Sgt Barnes their entire lives and they'd been inseparable from the minute they found one another. Rumor had it that even as Agent Carter flirted with Rogers, he'd spent the entire night with Barnes - never left his side. He'd parachuted into hell itself just to bring him back from the brink but he couldn't save him this time. Steve Rogers was a man who'd lost _everything_.

 

The next day the colonel met with Zola who'd been captured by Rogers and his men - the Howling Commandos they called themselves. He wanted to strangle the man but they needed him.

He stepped into a poorly lit room and pushed a tray of food toward Zola who stared back at him suspiciously.

"Sit down."

"What's this?," the Swiss scientist asked.

"Steak."

"What is in it?," Zola questioned - he was right to be hesitant.

"Cow. Doctor, do you realize how difficult it is to get ahold of a prime cut like that out here?"  They were trying to win him over - he had intel that could prove to be very useful. 

"I don't eat meat," Zola replied.

"Why not?"

"It disagrees with me."

"How about cyanide? Does that give you the rumbly tummy, too? Every Hydra agent that we've tried to take alive has crunched a little pill before we can stop him. But not you.  
So, here is my brilliant theory. You want to live," he sliced into the steak and cut it into tiny pieces.

"You're trying to intimidate me, Colonel," retorted Zola.

"I bought you dinner," the colonel countered as he chewed up a piece of steak.

" 'Given the valuable information he has provided and in exchange for his full cooperation, Dr. Zola is being remanded to Switzerland.' I sent that message to Washington this morning, of course it was encoded. You guys haven`t broken those codes, have you? That would be awkward"

"Schmidt will know this is a lie," retorted Zola.

"He's going to kill you anyway, Doc. You're a liability. You know more about Schmidt than anyone. And the last guy you cost us was Captain Rogers' closest friend so I wouldn't count on the very best of protection. It's you or Schmidt. It's just the hand you've been dealt." If Zola didn't comply he wouldn't survive Rogers - that was for damn sure.

"Schmidt believes he walks in the footsteps of the gods. Only the world itself will satisfy him," Zola replied.

"You do realize that's nuts, don't you?," he crinkled his eyebrows at the other man.

"What? The sanity of the plan is of no consequence," Zola confessed.

"And why is that?"

"Because he can do it!," exclaimed Zola.

"What's his target?"

"His target is everywhere."

 

Colonel Phillips squeezed more information out of Zola and retreated to the main room to study the maps and to try to wrap his head around Joanne Schmidt. After awhile he searched for Rogers who had been keeping to himself after losing Sgt Barnes.

"Where's Captain Rogers?," he asked Jones who wore a fresh clean uniform but stared back at him with pained eyes. None of them were taking Barnes' death well but Rogers was taking it the worst.

"He grabbed a bottle of our best stuff - strong enough to knock a man off his feet if he drinks too much of it and I'm not sure where he went from there," Jones sighed.

"Agent Carter?"

"Haven't saw her since this morning. The black-out is in effect so she must be around here somewhere."

"You can go now," the colonel frowned as Jones walked away. She'd most likely left to locate Rogers who had left base even under the threat of bombs.

 

Rogers came out of hiding the following day and with a vengeance and a vow to take down every last Hydra base. He was channeling his grief into anger and revenge.

"Johann Schmidt belongs in a bughouse. He thinks he's a god, and he`s willing to blow up half the world to prove it, starting with the USA. Schmidt`s working with powers  
beyond our capabilities. He gets across the Atlantic, he will wipe out the entire Eastern Seaboard in an hour. How much time we got?"

"According to my new best friend, under 24 hours," the colonel answered. Zola hadn't been difficult to crack at all.

"Where is he now?"

"Hydra's last base is here. In the Alps, 500 feet below the surface," the colonel replied as he pointed to a marker on the map. Rogers had been composed enough to remember the location.

"So what are we supposed to do? I mean, it's not like we can just knock on the front door," Morita added. 

"Why not? That's exactly what we're going to do." Rogers stated with an edge to his tone.

They threw together a precise plan and put it into effect. Schmidt had to be taken down. 

 

Rogers chased after Hydra's jet and it was looking like he wasn't going to make it. He needed to be able to reach it so he could climb inside where Schmidt was at the cockpit.

The colonel and Agent Carter hopped into a vehicle and put the pedal to the floor and met Rogers halfway.

"You're late," she said softly.

The colonel kept his focus on the runway and did his best to ignore the two of them but Rogers was silent so that had to mean something.

"Weren't you about to...," Agent Carter trailed off. The jet was coming in closer and they couldn't afford to miss it.

"Right," Rogers snapped to attention at that.

"Get in!"

Rogers jumped into the vehicle and stood in order to better reach the jet.

"Keep it steady!," he ordered.

"Wait!," Agent Carter called and promptly pulled him in for a kiss.

Rogers stared back at the colonel with wide shocked eyes -

"I'm not kissin' you."

With that, Rogers swung up into the jet as they narrowly avoided driving right off of a steep ledge.

 

They returned to base where Morita manned the equipment and awaited Rogers report.

A staticy voice came over the line " Come in. This is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?"

"Captain Rogers, what is your...?" Morita began to ask him where his coordinates were but was cut off by Agent Carter.

"Steve, is that you? Are you all right?"

"Peggy, Schmidt's dead!," Rogers exclaimed.

"What about the plane?"

"That's a a little bit tougher to explain," Rogers answered.

"Give me your coordinates. I'll find you a safe landing site," she suggested.

"There's not gonna be a safe landing. But I can try and force it down."

"I'll get Howard on the line. He'll know what to do," she sobbed.

"There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York. I got to put her in the water."

The colonel frowned - Rogers could give them his coordinates for location when the jet crashed. It would give him a higher chance of survival and yet he didn't.

"Please, don't do this. We have time. We can work it out," Agent Carter pleaded.

It was downright poetic - Rogers lost Barnes and now Carter was going to lose Rogers. Part of why Rogers was nose diving the plane was to save others and that wasn't surprising in the least but the colonel knew it had to be more than that especially given how his grief had manifested. He'd vowed to avenge Barnes death and he had - his mission was over. He'd lost his closest friend - the man that he loved more than life itself - that was obvious.

He didn't want to live.

"Right now l'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer, a lot of people are gonna die," Rogers voice crackled over the equipment as Carter sobbed harder.

"Peggy, this is my choice." There it was. He was _choosing_ to die rather than to live. She didn't take it well.

"I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance."

"All right. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club," she said brokenly.

"You got it."

"Don't you dare be late. Understood?"

"You know, I still don't know how to dance," Rogers replied.

"I'll show you how. Just be there."

"We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your..." The line went dead with nothing but radio silence on the other end as Agent Carter repeated his name.

It was heartbreaking to watch - he hadn't told her he loved her (though clearly he felt something for her) or the honest to God truth - that he could survive this if he really wanted to. That he could've given them a vague description of his location at least. Instead he'd steered the conversation toward a lighter subject. He'd loved Barnes enough to nearly die for him once and then actually go through with it after he fell from the train. The simple truth was that he couldn't bare to live in a world where Sgt James Barnes didn't exist. He loved him in a way that transcended death itself.

They had died of love.

He'd followed Barnes down - they truly were inseparable.

 

**Author's Note:**

> title is from a song in The First Avenger: https://archive.org/details/ThereIsATavernInTheTown
> 
> inspired by these screenshots of the colonel eyeing bucky and then smiling back at steve - followed by him saying to peggy "faith huh" (he'd implied earlier that day that it was a crush and she'd said that it was faith.)  
> http://givemebackmybucky.tumblr.com/post/127544704787/eyeballs-bucky-faith-huh-not-a-crush-all-i-need


End file.
